Enemy of My Enemy
by Merlin Fisher
Summary: Snape and Dumbledore face off, with alternating viewpoints.  First 3 chapters take place c. 1986, last part is in Harry's 6th year.  Beware of angst, sorry.  Major SPOILERS from DH!  May need some work, but here it is anyway.
1. Message Sent

_author's note: Naturally I own none of the copyrighted bits, including the characters and their situation. The first couple chapters of this fic were posted and removed a while back, later chapters are new material. I'm afraid it still isn't quite polished, but here you are anyhow. I did warn you there was a little bit of angst, right?_

_----- _

Snape picked up a quill, a jar of green ink, and a piece of parchment. He scribbled out a brief note, choosing his words with as much care as he could in his haste:

_Dumbledore –_

_I have to tell you something re: the prophecy. Go to the large hill in the woods four miles west of Hogsmeade at midnight tonight. I will meet you there. The message is __for your ears only—_

And Snape underlined this phrase so firmly that he tore a hole in his parchment. He could only hope Dumbledore would play honorable and bring no extra guards with him. Well, Dumbledore was a match for any six Death Eaters, there was no need ...

Snape paused a moment, the quill hovering over the parchment. At last he signed it with his usual _S.S._ Dumbledore would know well enough whom it was from.

He sealed the message with a tap of his wand, then muttered a spell over it so it would burst into flames if any but Dumbledore tried to open it. A clever wizard could remove the enchantment, but most would not think to look for a booby trap until the message was already destroyed. It would have to be safe enough.

He raised the hood of his cloak to conceal his face in shadow, and Apparated into Hogsmeade, heading straight for the post office. He chose an ordinary-sized owl, passed it the note, whispered "Take this to Albus Dumbledore in five minutes," and dropped a few Knuts into the slotted box underneath the owl's perch. Then he glanced round, made sure no one was looking, and cast a Disillusionment Charm on the owl – which made it squawk in apparent offense, but Snape silenced it hastily. He only cared about keeping the message a secret. The owl might be annoyed, but the charm would wear off after a while.

"Go," he whispered, and a moment later he waved his hand over the perch through empty air. The owl had gone.

Now there was nothing to do but wait.


	2. Message Received

The gray owl tapped on the window, and the latch clicked open as soon as Dumbledore pointed his wand at it. The bird dropped the envelope on Dumbledore's desk, flew over to Fawkes' perch for a moment: then was gone, back out the window. Dumbledore glimpsed the band on its leg that identified it as a Hogsmeade post owl.

He inspected the letter with caution, not touching it at first. These days, it didn't pay to be too careless. There was no name or address on the outer part of the letter. Dumbledore prodded it carefully with his wand, but nothing alarming happened. Satisfied, he picked it up and opened it with a silver letter opener.

It was written in small, cramped handwriting, with green ink, and signed _S.S_. Dumbledore's blue eyes narrowed. By all appearances, this note was from Severus Snape. They had corresponded once or twice before, as representatives of opposing forces, so to speak.

But this time, Snape had not signed the letter with the Dark Mark. What did that mean?

As for the prophecy ... Dumbledore sighed. He knew very well what young Snape had heard, and to whom he had brought the news. Aberforth had caught him and thrown him out of the Hog's Head, but by then the damage was already done. Dumbledore warned the Potters immediately and they'd gone into hiding, with Sirius Black as their Secret-Keeper. Everyone knew he and James Potter were best friends; Black was the ideal choice, and yet Dumbledore felt uneasy. He knew something wasn't right...

Dumbledore sincerely hoped they would all come through this dark time safely. They were all so young, with such bright hopes for the future ... He could see no end in sight to this war, but one step at a time ... his responsibility was to stand against Lord Voldemort for as long as he could, and seek to thwart Voldemort's Dark aims in any way possible.

Which brought him back to Snape's letter. What could Snape possibly want to say to Dumbledore himself about the prophecy? Maybe Snape was hoping to learn, by talking to him, what the rest of the prophecy had said? Dumbledore had no intention of giving that away. Those few missing sentences might turn out to be very important indeed. _The Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ..._ Dumbledore had only a vague inkling of what that might mean, but he knew it was essential to keep Lord Voldemort from hearing those words.

Still, Dumbledore decided, he might be well served by going to the hilltop and listening to whatever Snape had to say. Snape was a Death Eater, and he surely had a great deal of useful knowledge. Dumbledore had crossed wands with him several times since Snape had left school, and he knew the man was a talented Occlumens as well as a formidable duelist. Not the sort of wizard to give away information easily. But he might be teased into dropping a hint or two about Voldemort's current plans.

Could he be trusted, with that business about "your ears only"? Snape obviously wanted a one-on-one meeting. What were the chances he was trying to set up an ambush? Dumbledore wondered, gazing at the letter.

It seemed, from the tone and the handwriting, as though Snape was being honest. For a change. Dumbledore could fight off a fair helping of trouble anyway, so unless there was a trap much cleverer than he was expecting, it should be safe to go to this meeting. He would Apparate a distance away and approach carefully, of course, just in case.

-----

Snape Apparated to the hilltop ten minutes before midnight. It was a wild night; the tree branches rattled and the wind seemed to howl. He stared every which way into the darkness, waiting, half expecting a curse out of nowhere to strike him down.

What kind of a fool was he playing, putting himself out here in such a vulnerable position? His only hope was that Dumbledore was more "honorable" than a Death Eater would have been. He had to take the chance that Dumbledore would talk before fighting.

Foolish Dumbledore and his notions of fair play. He was true to his House, though any Hufflepuff would be proud of such behavior too. Their ideas about justice were a weakness that could be used against them. It was strange that, with their ridiculous self-imposed constraints, Dumbledore and his followers had lasted this long against the Dark Lord.

Was that a sound? A flicker of movement? Snape stared into the shadowy trees, but he was afraid to light his wand. No. There was nothing there.

Suddenly, a deafening roar exploded in his ears, and a bolt of white light blinded him. The ground suddenly seemed to jump up, knocking him down, and his right hand went numb. He shouted into the night: "Don't kill me!"

-----


	3. Negotiation

Dumbledore smiled a little, grimly. His aim had been perfect: Snape was neatly disarmed, and he still had not seen his attacker. "That was not my intention," he replied, striding up the hill.

Snape looked a terrible mess: he had never been fastidious about his appearance, Dumbledore recalled, but he looked half mad now. He was pale as death, and the fear in his black eyes was more than the fear of an unarmed man facing a foe. It was barely controlled panic. The Death Eater looked like an animal trapped between an advancing predator and a leap off a cliff, and thinking seriously of choosing the cliff.

Could he really be thinking of turning traitor against Voldemort?

"What message does Lord Voldemort have for me?" said Dumbledore.

"I come with a warning – no, a request – please—"

He did not read Snape's whole mind through those black eyes, but he did not need to. For one of the last times in his life, Snape's heart was written clearly on his face.

One of Voldemort's best Death Eaters, coming to him, Dumbledore, for help in thwarting Lord Voldemort's latest plan ... Dumbledore was amazed, but he remained outwardly stern. If he played this right, it could turn the tide of the war, or at the very least, it might save many lives. Severus Snape on his side! But he must negotiate, give no ground, for the Death Eaters themselves never gave any...

-----

As their eyes met, Snape realized he should have made an effort to hide his thoughts. But it was too late for that ... and his mind was too unquiet, it would not have worked. Dumbledore knew what Lily meant to him, but as a strategist Dumbledore could not but use the fact to his advantage. He ought to want to protect his friends, Snape didn't think the old white wizard needed a reason, but Dumbledore apparently intended to use Snape's feelings against him.

As the Dark Lord would have, were he in Dumbledore's place. He would demand a very high price.

"And what will you give me in return, Severus?"

Snape stared back at him. He had not considered this angle. For once, foolishly, he'd acted on impulse, clutching at a thread when his bridges were all burning and he could think of nothing else to try ...

Of course Dumbledore would want to protect the Potters, they were close to him and Dumbledore always was one for saving lives whenever possible. But he was playing the role of war general, as he had the last few times they had met. He did not intend to let Snape go without extracting something of value for his own side.

What did Snape have to offer as payment?

What was Lily's safety worth?

Remembering why he had made this choice in the first place, Snape reminded himself that Dumbledore was the only wizard in the world who could possibly help with his predicament. He would rather have gone to someone else, anyone – except, perhaps, Sirius Black – but no one could stand up to the Dark Lord, no one but Dumbledore. There was no one else who could help.

At last Snape said: "Anything."

-----


	4. Confrontation

Standing on the Astronomy tower, beneath the night sky, with the Dark Mark glittering eerily above their heads, Dumbledore looked Snape in the face and the terrible pain in his chest lightened just a little. He had been afraid for several minutes, while talking to Draco, that Snape would not come.

_Severus, I should not have doubted you._ Now that he knew Snape was truly loyal to him, Dumbledore's concerns for what would come after his own death were lessened.

_After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure..._

That was Tom Riddle's problem, always. Even after suffering the rebound of his own Killing Curse and surviving, albeit in a diminished state, he still insisted: _"There is nothing worse than death!"_ Dumbledore recalled the encounter at the Ministry last year, and if he had not been in so much pain at this moment, he would have smiled.

Harry Potter had to defeat him, it could not happen any other way. Voldemort had proven his own fatal weaknesses time and again, and after last year, Dumbledore had become certain. Poor Harry had suffered so much, and yet had more trials ahead of him, but Dumbledore was confident he would manage.

He had to hope. His own influence in the matter, if he had any, was about to be permanently ended.

Snape did not move. Was he hesitating? He was looking at Dumbledore with such rage and anguish as Dumbledore had never witnessed. Hopefully the Death Eaters could not see it, but Dumbledore could see the pain this was causing his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

Why did he stand there looking like that? Why was he so reluctant to finish it? Surely he hadn't forgotten everything Dumbledore had put him through. He knew the stakes that depended on this moment. And every heartbeat that passed made it more likely Harry would be discovered, frozen in the corner.

_You've got to act, or everything will be lost. You gave me your word! Remember your promise!_ Dumbledore thought. He could not use mind magic without his wand, but Professor Snape had to know what he was thinking. They had planned this. He could not fail now.

"_Severus ... please..."_

-----

As Snape looked at Dumbledore, saw him leaning back against the wall, looking terribly aged and weak, he thought: _Albus Dumbledore, you sentimental old fool._

Everything had gone as Dumbledore predicted. The old wizard had made sure of it, of course. And now, near the end of the school year, just when Snape was hoping things might be all right, here he stood facing his nemesis, with a flock of Death Eaters and a white-faced Draco Malfoy behind him. Waiting.

Dumbledore expected him to fulfill his promise.

As he looked in those bright blue eyes for the last time, Snape recalled countless conversations with Dumbledore. When Snape had been a student, the headmaster of Hogwarts was mostly a distant background figure, but even then Snape had recognized him as a powerful wizard: accomplished, intelligent, a person deserving of respect, even of awe. Years later, when he had joined Voldemort, Snape had absorbed the Death Eaters' culture of hatred for Dumbledore. After all, he was the Dark Lord's archenemy, ever the leader in the fight against the campaign for blood-purity.

And then Snape had gone to him, begged for help almost on his knees, and Dumbledore had tried to help ... but not without a sacrifice from Snape.

"_Any man can die for a cause," _Dumbledore had told him once._ "It's __**living**__ for one that takes real courage."_

After his last desperate effort to save Lily had failed, life hardly seemed worth living any longer. Snape had betrayed the Dark side, had turned his back on arts he'd taken years to learn, had sold out most of his hard-earned connections, had willingly helped to destroy and undo all that he'd spent his life working to gain. Even now he remained a scourge and an outcast to the others on his chosen side, branded by the Mark on his arm whether he showed it or not ... and for what? Lily had died anyway, killed by his old master. The only creature he had ever truly cared for was gone. He had wished for death, had even expressed the wish aloud, half hoping Dumbledore would grant it.

But the old wizard wouldn't put him out of his pain. Instead, Snape had been forced to live on, with his shame and grief. There was no one who knew the truth except Dumbledore, no one to help Snape bear the burden that weighed on his heart.

Sometimes, when Snape bothered to look in a mirror, he wondered whether there was anyone really living behind those eyes that looked back out at him. The face hadn't changed much, only aging a little with the years, but he felt nothing like a living person any more. Most of the time there was only coldness, except for moments of frustration, and anger, and wrenching hatred. There wasn't any joy in life. Perhaps Lord Voldemort felt that way all the time, but then, the Dark Lord could hardly be called human.

Dumbledore had said that killing tore the soul. If so, what kind of state was Snape's soul in? And what would happen to it now?

"_Severus ... please ..."_

What was it like to face death unafraid, with a clear conscience? Snape stared at Dumbledore, heard the plea for death, and wondered. His own conscience would never be clear, and though he had once wished for death himself, he knew now that there were truly some things even worse. The Dark Lord, for his part, had no conscience whatsoever ... but his one weakness, if he had any, was his ultimate and driving fear of death.

That, Snape thought, was the biggest difference between the two of them. Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort were strangely alike: both brilliant strategists, master sorcerers, highly accomplished in magical deeds too many to count ... and they were both driven, keenly ambitious, quite willing to manipulate others to attain their goals. They were truly worthy adversaries, almost two of a kind.

Yet Dumbledore had been in Gryffindor's House, and early in his long career as a fighter on behalf of Muggles and Mudbloods, he had destroyed Grindelwald himself. Snape hardly dared allow himself to think it, lest the Dark Lord detect his disloyalty somehow ... but he almost believed that, had Dumbledore chosen to study Dark magic, he could have rivaled Lord Voldemort.

But he hadn't. Instead he had chosen ... _this_. He would've made a fine Slytherin, the way he twisted events to suit his own ends. And there he stood, forcing Snape's hand one more time, forcing him to destroy the only man who knew his whole heart, the only person he could consider something like a true ally. The greatest wizard of the century, who had never paid much attention to him until he became a Death Eater, then treated him with barely disguised contempt when Snape had at last grown into a worthy wizard.

Even after Snape had turned to Dumbledore's side, Dumbledore kept him always at arm's length... he cared more for James Potter's worthless son than he ever had for Snape, who had done so much. Though Snape would not admit it even to himself, he had wished, since first meeting Dumbledore, for just one small word of approval from the man.

Snape's face was furious, hateful, as he faced the headmaster of Hogwarts. He hated Voldemort for putting the Malfoy boy up to this, hated Draco for being too weak to do it himself, hated Dumbledore for using him remorselessly and putting him in this position ... but Snape hated himself most of all, for getting into this whole mess in the first place. He had been shortsighted and had let his emotions get the better of him, several times, and that was why all this had happened. Was there no end to the waking nightmare he spent his whole life walking through?

Apparently not.

Yet.

"_Avada Kedavra!"_


End file.
